Letter from My Garden 4

Thus spoke General Bigeard: “I am heartbroken for France!” I must admit that I find myself in the uncomfortable position of a worried observer, watching the world in turmoil around me and feeling a deep sorrow in my soul.

Never, ever, have I been truly interested in anything political. I have simply made a choice, more out of duty than conviction, and I have always placed my trust in the person who best represented my values.

The municipal elections are coming soon. In the small town where I have settled, three lists are running, none of which bears the label of a national party. I cannot say whether they are left-wing or right-wing. It is true that in rural France, a large majority of voters vote based on appearances, preferring someone from the city; foreigners have no say.

Veterans, for their part, have lost their place since the end of war, and it is not the "OPEX" (overseas operations) that will revive a duty of remembrance whose flame of remembrance has been extinguished.

This is all the more regrettable since, of the 13 members of the "UFAC" association, whose presidency I am supposed to represent, 5 have difficulty getting around. What will also complicate matters is that 2 of us are running on two different lists, opposing the current mayor's list—not exactly helping our situation.

I put myself in God's place, this great solitary being who amused himself by creating a universe so terrifying in its immensity. He must be very amused to watch his favorite creature live, far beyond what he could have expected, given how much of a clown we are.

And it's not the political leaders of our world who could bore him when they display such idiotic and belligerent behavior. His toy is likely to break very quickly; our humanity began yesterday and will end tomorrow.

Perhaps he will have to reinstate some form of dinosaur or develop the animal destined to replace us: the octopus…

Such is the way of the world.

Ite Missa est.